


Time Lady Trouble

by D_f_m22



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 18:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_f_m22/pseuds/D_f_m22
Summary: Living in the a Vault on Earth means Missy has to deal with a biological reality she'd rather avoid. A short fluffy piece based on Missy experiencing a human period and the Doctor trying to help her. Bill is mortified by her awkward aliens.





	Time Lady Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> I've got loads of Uni work at the moment and after a whole day of writing that, writing little silly twissy pieces help. I will be updating my other works once my dissertation is in. Meanwhile, there may be a few short oneshots as and when I can. This was written in a rush this evening and it's not up to much, but I hope you enjoy reading. Feedback appreciated.

Missy woke up, rolling over in her bed and stretching out luxuriously. The artificial light was triggered by her movement and trickled an impression of dawn into her bedroom in the Vault. She had to give it to the Doctor, this was the best prison she’d ever had. As she went to sit up, she shifted uncomfortably at the ache in her back and cramp in her abdomen. 

 

“That is unpleasant,” she mumbled to herself. 

 

She was slightly confused- the night before, she had been perfectly fine. She hoped she hadn’t contracted a human bug. Forcing herself to sit up, she scowled in disgust as she caught sight of the blood staining her sheets. 

 

They were Egyptian cotton! Gifted to her by the Doctor after she’d done something right, something good the other week. He’d droned on about what it was she had done, saying how proud he was but she’d stopped listening after he said she could choose something off her list to get. Standing up, she winced at the cramping that seemed to have decided it was there to stay. Pulling the duvet back, she examined the pool of blood and found the matching stain lining the inside of her cotton pyjama shorts and tops of her thighs. 

 

That…that was new. It wasn’t normal, that much she knew. Wracking her mind, she tried to figure out what was happening. 

 

There was only one logical explanation. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“And then,” Bill sighed as she flopped into the chair opposite the Doctor’s desk, “the cheeky git had the audacity to say his chips were overcooked! Honestly, I am so done with Oxbridge rejects and their snotty attitudes.” 

 

The Doctor laughed and looked at Bill sympathetically. The young human sounded as though she’d had a bad day of it yesterday, she already looked exhausted and the new day had barely begun.

 

“Ah well, it’s only a job. Anyway, the cafeteria chips are great. I’d eat them all day everyday if I could.” 

 

“Yeah,” Bill snorted as she scanned through her phone. “A job that pays my bills. That’s such a Time Lord-y thing to say- ‘just a job’ ” she mimicked. “Most advanced in the universe, pull the other one, you’re as bad as the Oxbridge rejects.” 

 

“I have a job,” the Doctor said, rather affronted at her accusation. “I’m your professor.”

 

Bill shrugged and looked up at him, mirth dancing in her young eyes. 

 

“You’re only my professor because you’re Guardian of the Vault,” she said with a teasing smile. 

 

“That’s not a job.”

 

“What is it then?”

 

A long pause followed as the Doctor squirmed under Bill’s curious gaze. 

 

“It’s a…a duty. A promise…It’s my duty because I made a promise,” he eventually managed to stutter out. 

 

“A duty? That’s even more Time Lord-y,” she responded as she leaned forward and rested an elbow on his desk. “Seriously though, what is it with you two? Is she your wife? I was getting some vibes when we were down there. The way she was climbing over that piano, it was like watching a classic Hollywood siren in an old saloon. Only with aliens and murder threats and Earth being taken over.”

 

“We’re not doing this again, Bill. I’ve told you already, Missy’s an old friend.”

 

Bill had been like a broken record since she’d discovered Missy in the Vault. Her initial concern had been for Missy herself. How could the Doctor have abandoned this clearly clinically (and criminally) insane woman for six months in solitary confinement? After a whole weekend of nagging, the Doctor had eventually relented and shown her some of Missy’s crimes, explaining that it was the Vault or execution. The Doctor was being kind- he was trying to help her rehabilitate. He was also keeping the rest of the universe safe. Bill seemed to have been happy with that explanation for a week before the nagging began again. This time, though, she didn’t want to know why Missy was in the Vault but who she was. His usual response of ‘the other last of the Time Lords’ didn’t wash. Bill wanted to know exactly who Missy was to him. 

 

A friend, he had said, choosing not to clarify just what Time Lords meant by friends. 

 

“Yeah, friends, and I’m the pope,” Bill said. “On that note, you still owe me after ruining my chances with Penny.”

 

“I’ve said, I’ll set up a date on the moon or in Ancient Greece or something. Your pick- all of time and space. Does Penny like spaghetti?” 

 

“Nah, you’re all right, I think she was freaked out enough by the pope. If I get another chance with her, I’m keeping it strictly Earth bound. How is psycho Time Lady these days?”

 

“She…She’s Missy,” the Doctor answered, because it was the simplest response. He tried to think of something more he could say to elaborate. “Oh! A spider got into the Vault the other week and she kept it in a cup until I came down and could let it out. Last time, when a mouse had made it into the Vault, she ripped its legs off and cut it open with her fingers, watching it bleed out.”

 

Bill winced, she didn’t like mice or spiders, but the sadistic method Missy had used to kill the rodent seemed too much. She briefly wondered how the animals had made it into a ‘high-security Vault’ in the first place and reasoned that there was more to it than the Doctor was telling her. Looking at the Doctor’s goofy grin, he looked proud. She resolved not to ask for all the details. 

 

“That…I guess that’s good. Did you, like, reward her or something? You know like the positive reinforcement that parents and teachers always harp on about.”

 

“She’s not a child, Bill! But, yes I got her some new sheets she’d been asking for since last year.”

 

Glancing down at his desk, the Doctor caught sight of his psychic paper flashing with a message from Missy. Rolling his eyes, he wondered what it was she was demanding this time. Distractedly, he read the glowing words. 

 

< I know you’re going to think I’m being dramatic but I think I'm dying. There’s blood everywhere.>

 

The Doctor rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Bill. Last time Missy had said she was dying, she’d stubbed her toe. He wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t a deliberate self-injury to get his attention. The time before that, there’d been nothing wrong with her at all and she’d jumped on him spraying him with a make-shift water gun. 

 

“That’s her now, isn’t it?” Bill questioned. “You’re communicating with her via some Time Lord-y paper.”

 

“It’s not Time—,” the Doctor started but gave up mid-sentence, growing distracted as the paper lit up once more with fresh words. He could feel her genuine discomfort…and was that panic? His scowl deepened. “Yes, it’s her. She’s just being over-dramatic,” he said distractedly eyes glancing down at the new messages. 

 

 

The Doctor rolled his eyes at her theatrics- she’d make a splendid actress- but decided it was best to go and check on her any way. She might have broken a toe this time.

 

“I’d better go and check on her. It can’t be long before you start work” he commented, standing up and walking with Bill to the door. 

 

“Urgh, don’t remind me. Say hi to the missus for me,” Bill teased about to head in the opposite direction to the Doctor. “Whoops, I mean Missy. Freudian slip.”

 

The Doctor scowled, he wouldn’t be passing on her greetings. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“Right, what’s so urgent?” The Doctor shouted out upon arrival in the Vault. 

 

There was no sign of Missy, or any blood. 

 

“Oh no, am I to late, has Missy perished? But wait, where’s all the blood she was crying about?” He deadpanned, sounding like a parent searching for a toddler in a game of hide and seek. 

 

“Shut up, you arse,” Missy’s voice breezed into the main area of the Vault. “I’m in the bathroom. Have a look in the bedroom, and then take a slice of humble pie, there’s blood all over my new sheets.” 

 

The Doctor rolled his eyes but headed to her room. Upon seeing the sheer amount of blood, he froze, internally scolding himself for not believing her. This wasn’t just a stubbed toe. Heading for the bathroom, full of concern, he found Missy standing by the sink and dabbing her inner thighs with a wet flannel. Her pyjama shorts and underwear was discarded nearby and everything immediately fell into place. Relief took over and he let himself slump against the door frame. 

 

“Don’t just stand there!” Missy exclaimed panic and annoyance evident. “What’s happening? I think something might have breached the security…some kind of gas that causes internal bleeding.”

 

The Doctor gawped at her and tried not to laugh at the absurdity. 

 

“Missy, it’s just your period. Calm down!”

 

“My what?” She scoffed, staring at him obliviously. 

 

Scratching his head, the Doctor reddened at Missy’s obvious confusion. Surely, she knew what was happening and was trying to make him uncomfortable.

 

“Come on, you know” he gestured vaguely. 

 

Missy continued her blank stare. Suddenly the Doctor remembered the peculiarity of female Gallifreyan biology- that they’d adapt to the biological norms of any planet they lived on long enough. She’d been in the Vault close to a century now, she was certainly due a cycle. 

 

“Do you remember biology classes at the Academy?”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

 

The Doctor shook his head and walked to the bath, deciding to start drawing her a warm, bubble-filled bath and try a different tact. He probably knew more about periods than her, having spent centuries around human females. 

 

“This form of yours is female,” he said. “Female Gallifreyans adapt to the biological norms of the planet their living on. You’re on Earth, your body’s adapting to human norms.” 

 

“Ugh, of course it’s the humans' fault.”

 

“That’s not quite, you know what, never mind. I’m no expert, but human women have a monthly menstrual cycle- if they’re not pregnant. The long and short of it is you’ll bleed for a few days, maybe a week. It might be uncomfortable but I can get you some pain relief and supplies.”

 

Missy looked at him in disgust. 

 

“That is disgusting,” she hissed. “That is one of the most disgusting things I have ever heard. Why do you hang around with these primitives? And uncomfortable? I’ve got cramps that feel like I’m in a vice, please do carry on sharing your personal experiences of this.” 

 

The Doctor held his hands up in surrender, in his experience, it was best not to argue with women during their time of the month. 

 

“Look, you have a bath and relax. I’m going to go and get you some things.”

 

Missy turned away, grumbling as she pulled off her pyjama shirt and dipped her hand in the water, testing the temperature.

 

“I hate you. I hate this and I hate humans.”

 

“I’ll be back in half an hour, Missy.” 

 

“I’m counting every second.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The Doctor returned twenty-eight minutes after he’d left with supplies from a local pharmacy and clean sheets. 

 

“I can hear you, but I’m not coming out of the bathroom yet. Change the sheets, leave the things outside the bathroom and go and play fetch with Bill. I can’t look at you right now. I'm so mad at you.”

 

Missy’s authoritative voice rang out into the Vault. Quite how it was his fault, he didn't know. 

 

“How are you feeling?” 

 

“Like shit, so do as I say.”

 

The doctor did as she said. 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The Doctor and Bill are sat in silence in the Doctor’s office. The Doctor reads over her latest essay, face creasing in consideration, though he isn’t thinking about her work. Bill watches anxiously, worrying at the faces he’s pulling. She chews on a nail and summons the courage to break the icy silence. 

 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” She squints, “you can tell me. I won’t cry or anything.” 

 

“What?” The Doctor asks, looking up with eyebrows knitted together. “No, its fine, a perfectly acceptable first. Well done.” 

 

Bill nodded proudly before her smile faltered. 

 

“Okay, I’ll bite. what’s wrong?” 

 

“What? Nothing.”

 

“You’ve had a look on your face all evening. You weren’t like this before you went to see Missy, ah wait, is this Time Lady trouble?” 

 

“Something like that. Bill,” the Doctor paused and reddened. “Have you…um…started menstruating yet?” 

 

He was a bit vague on the human age of puberty, never properly gauged it- they all looked like children to him. 

 

“Excuse me, now?” Bill gasped, a look of horror on her features. 

 

“You know, when a human girl reaches the age of puberty and has her monthly cycle.”

 

“Oh God. Stop. Just stop,” she said quickly. “I’m twenty-four, of course I have.” 

 

The Doctor nodded, like her ridiculously young age should mean something. 

 

“Is it…Is it Missy’s time of the month, is that why you’re asking?” 

 

“It’s her first. She’s…she’s not happy.”

 

“Her first? But she’s like middle-aged, she’s nearer the menopause.”

“She only looks middle-aged, she’s over two-thousand.”

 

Bill blinked and tried to comprehend such an age. 

 

“Right. So how is it her first?”

 

“Gallifreyans adapt to native biological norms. Missy’s female this time around, that means dealing with periods. Look, what…what do you do when it’s you?” 

 

“I eat chocolate, I make myself a hot water bottle and I watch rubbish TV. When I first started, Moira brought me a cringy book explaining it all. There were pictures.”

 

The Doctor nodded, bit his cheek and returned to thoughtful silence. 

 

“This has got a little weird for me,” Bill said seconds later. “I’m gonna go, maybe call Penny and be normal. I hope Missy feels better soon.” 

 

XXXXXXXX

 

The Doctor had been unable to face buying a book on periods aimed at pre-pubescent girls. He had, however, managed to send Nardole into Waterstones while he scouted out the other things Bill had mentioned. 

Chocolate. Check.  
DVDs. Check.  
Hot water bottle. Check. 

Now, armed with all the supplies, he entered the Vault. Missy was laying on the sofa, looking like she was feeling utterly sorry for herself. Snuggled under her blanket, she turned as soon as she heard Doctor enter; curling up and trying to hide away from him. 

 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, approaching the kitchen and boiling the kettle for her hot water bottle. 

 

“I hate you,” Missy sniffed, through tears. “This is your fault and it’s horrible.”

 

“It’s not my fault,” the Doctor sighed. Filling the hot water bottle, he approached her slowly. 

 

“It is. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t keeping me locked in this stupid Vault.”

 

“Okay. Okay,” he conceded. “I bought you some things that might help.”

 

Missy turned, intrigued. He handed her the hot water bottle and she visibly uncoiled as she pressed it against her stomach. The Doctor frowned at her puffy eyes. 

 

“There’s some treats in there, a few bits that are supposed to help.”

 

Missy leaned forward, looking in the bag curiously. She pulled out the white chocolate and a DVD staring some attractive Hollywood stars. Her hand hovered over the illustrated book and she scoffed, though glanced through the pages. 

 

The Doctor stood by the doors, unsure whether he was wanted or not. 

 

“I want you to stay,” Missy mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate. Critically examining the DVD, she scowled. “Don’t ask for your human’s advice on pick-me ups again though.”

 

“I was trying to help.”

 

“If you want to help, come over here and stroke my hair and tell me a story.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

The Doctor approached her in quick strides and let her re-position herself at his side, working his long fingers through her curls. 

 

“Next month, you’re finding a way to stop this because I’m not doing this again. Ever. I’ll get pregnant if I must.” 

 

“Missy, I don’t know what you know about human pregnancy, but that isn’t a better alternative” the Doctor laughed kindly at her flawed logic. 

 

She didn’t respond, having fallen to sleep with her head in his lap. 

 

The Doctor continued with his story anyway, smiling at her peaceful breaths and hoping tomorrow would be easier for her.

 

XXXXXXXX

 

A week later and the Doctor is sat in front of Missy, injecting her hip bone with a hormone suppressor he’d made in the Tardis med-bay. Missy hummed as the needle was removed and rolled her top back down. 

 

“There. No more periods. You may need a booster jab in a century or so, but we’ll cross that bridge as and when.”

 

“Good,” Missy said. “Last week was hell.”

 

The Doctor couldn’t agree more, having somehow lived through her hormonal wrath. 

 

“Chess?” He questioned, noting he had time on his hands. 

 

“Chess.” 

 

Two games in, Missy looks over at the Doctor, a question on her lips. 

 

"I know that look," he sighed. "What is it?"

 

"Will you still bring me chocolate every month?"

 

The Doctor laughed. 

 

"On the condition that you share it with me."


End file.
